


a little bird told me

by Anonymous



Category: Horus Heresy - Various Authors
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:08:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22046146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Fabius' transport is intercepted en-route to the Eye of Terror for the Lord of Iron has heard the rumours of his reanimation capabilities and seeks to use his talents for his own purposes.
Relationships: Calliphone/Perturabo (WH40k)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 21
Collections: PB Anon Meme - 2019





	a little bird told me

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place after 'Imperfect' but before _Slaves to Darkness_.

The _Locrian_ , one of the few light cruisers remaining in the Third Legion, has just exited the Warp when it is accosted by a trio of strike cruisers bearing Fourth Legion ident-plates.

At this point, the high tensions between the two Legions mean void warfare is not out of question. But between a single light cruiser and three strikers, it is little wonder the captain of the _Locrian_ deems to open communications rather than batteries.

What is telling however, is that the _Iron Edict_ makes the same choice.

"What is the meaning of this?" the captain of the _Locrian_ demands.

"The Lord of Iron requests an audience with the Master Apothecary of your fleet."

The captain falters, taken aback. He looks to said Apothecary for guidance.

"We consent," Fabius Bile answers, waving a dismissive hand. "Follow their lead, captain."

"Yes, lord," the captain responds. The legionaire of the Fourth terminates the vox link and the _Locrian_ dutifully falls in line behind the _Iron Edict_ with the _Scepter of Calibos_ and the _Trident of Archos_ following up the rear, a silent threat if there ever was one.

The flagship of the Fourth Legion is floating in stratospheric orbit above the largest moon of Scaria. The same legionaire commands the _Locrian_ to dock with the eleventh harbour. The captain complies with some trepidation, sneaking a glance at the guest of honour. Fabius Bile is working his way through the same pile of dataslates as he had been before their forced detour. The Chief Apothecary must have been made of sterner stuff, he muses, to think nothing of meeting with a Primarch.

The _Locrian_ docks and a squad of Iron Warriors line the halls of the hangar to meet them.

"Just the Master Apothecary," the marine at the head of the delegation says when Fabius' own honour guard attempts to follow. The captain has wisely remained in the command centre.

"It's alright," Fabius says to his marines, tilting his head down in a strange show of reassurance. The Emperor's Children assigned to the Chief Apothecary demonstrate their former fastidiousness, choosing to remain in the hangar rather than retreat to the _Locrian_. And so Fabius follows the cluster of Iron Warriors. He has been aboard the _Iron Blood_ before, but that had been years ago. In the time before their Primarchs had come to blows.

The procession ends before the Lord of Iron's sanctum. The marine who had led him through gestures silently and Fabius alone goes before the fantastically-ornate gates.

Owing to his copious augmentations, his gait is measured and slow. Fabius reasons to himself that the Lord of Iron must not be in any hurry or else he would directly boarded the _Locrian_. It wasn't as if the three squads assigned to the ship would have been enough to stop a company of Astartes much less a Primarch. Eventually, he reaches what must be the throne room. The high-backed throne whose wrought spirals scrape the ceiling is unoccupied however. The expected Primarch is standing to the right and looking out at the satellite below.

"My lord," Fabius greets, slowly lowering himself to one knee. The bionic arms attached to his back -- essential for auto-operating -- help to keep him steady.

"Chief Apothecary," the Lord of Iron greets in turn. Fabius is aware of heavy footsteps walking his way but the aura of a Primarch being what it is, he dares not lift his head. "I have heard that my brother has had you revive the Gorgon multiple times. Is this true?"

"In a sense."

"In what sense?"

"He is not satisfied with any of these copies. Though the memories have been preserved, up until a point of course, the raw power of the Gorgon is lacking."

"And yet you have successfully revived his Lord Commander and favoured bladesman."

Though Fabius is surprised the other so well informed, he is careful to keep it from showing, instead fluently and honestly answering with: "There was a world of difference between the two requests."

"Howso?"

Fabius hesitates, looking upwards. He nearly quails at the sight of Perturabo, kneeled down so as to be eye level with him. His glittering black eyes are reminiscent of Corvus Corax and yet wholly his own. He swallows and finds he can say nothing but the truth, the whole truth.

"With the Gorgon, my lord Primarch demands I recreate the epitome of gene-science with the blood from his blade. With Eidolan and Lucius, I am working with complete corpses of Astartes."

"A world of difference indeed," Perturabo echoes, holding Fabius' gaze.

"Yes, lord."

"But Eidolan and Lucius," Perturabo presses, "Their memories are intact?"

"Yes, lord."

"Could you do the same with a mortal?"

"Of course." Though Fabius is rankled to have been pulled from his research for such a purpose, he knows better than to deny what is effectively child's play for his talents, especially when asked point-blank by a Primarch. Plus, favours granted; favours owed. The Lord of Iron is not without his own specialties, specialties which Fabius would bleed to make use of at times.

"You're certain."

"I am, my lord."

"Very well." With a grace that should not be possible for his hulking frame, Perturabo rises, releasing Fabius from his gaze.

"Come," Perturabo dictates. Fabius uses his tertiary limbs to push himself to his feet, carefully following the Primarch into the deeper levels of his sanctum.

Their destination is a mausoleum. A grave yet beautiful construction where there is only marble and glass. The scent of flowers permeates the air and Fabius is surprised again that the Primarch of the Iron Warriors might have these sorts of inclinations. It was one thing to feel affection for a human, another thing entirely to mourn their inevitable passing. He keeps his peace however, trailing three paces behind the Primarch as he makes his way to the sepulchre at the centre of the chapel.

"My sister," Perturabo says by way of introduction. "She died years ago."

Fabius gazes at the perfectly-preserved cadaver. It is indeed a mortal woman. Advanced in age and composed entirely of augmetics from the waist down. She must have been beautiful, once, to have attracted the Primarch so, though the years have not been kind to her and only traces of her former beauty remain.

The chain of gemstones wrapped about her neck would fool a less trained eye, but Fabius sees the adornment for what it is.

"She was strangled," he notes, keeping his gaze trained on the corpse.

"Yes," Perturabo says, and with the optical device implanted on his shoulder, Fabius can see the Primarch stiffen, though he is out of the traditional line of sight.

It is strange, how alike the brothers are. Is the inclination to destroy that which they love embedded in their genetic sequence? It would certainly explain the frequency of the act, a common trait throughout the Legions.

"Can you revive her?" Perturabo asks.

"Of course my lord," Fabius answers. This would be far easier than any of his previous requests. He imagines it will be accomplished in a matter of days, maybe even hours. Between the state of preservation and the fact that, when all was said and done, Perturabo was asking him to revive a mere mortal, he knows he will be back on-board the _Locrian_ and en-route to the Eye of Terror within the week. It is a relief, almost.

Perturabo cracks his knuckles.

"Then tell me what you need."


End file.
